Running Wide
by gingerstrikesagain
Summary: Charlie Peters loves football. Everything else comes second. But her new town seems to be throwing a wrench into her personal priorities. A story about making friends, going through loss, and coming into one's own. All set in a football crazy town in Texas.
1. Chapter 1

"Everyone tryin' out as linemen, let's get started. Everyone else is gonna sit and watch, got it?" Coach Taylor said to the mass of football hopefuls standing on the field. As the kids trying for fullback followed him, the rest of the teens sat on the metal benches at the edge of the field.

There were too many kids to fit comfortably on the benches, so some took to standing, while others sat on the turf. As the potential linemen smashed themselves into the blocking sleds Matt Saracen sat down on the turf next to the lone female on the field. Like many of the boys who were there, she was wearing basketball shorts that hit right above her knee, and a plain white t-shirt. The clothes did nothing to hide her broad shoulders, and muscled arms. Her legs, or what Matt could see of them without seeming creepy, were long and well formed. She held an intelligent glint in her eye, watching the linemen intently.

When her eyes flicked up to look at him he introduced himself, "Um, Hi…Hello. I'm, uh, Matt." He winced as he stumbled through his introduction. She raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"Hey. I'm Charlie," She said back. He was shocked that she had responded without an eye roll or scoff, which usually happened when he tried to introduce himself. He was even more thrown by her accent, or lack of one. She clearly wasn't from Texas, or anywhere in the south.

Charlie waited for him to respond, but he seemed so stunned by something that it became obvious that he was not going to carry on the conversation anytime soon.

"So, Matt, what do you play?" She asked him.

"Huh?" He said, mentally kicking himself as he did so.

"Well, you obviously play football, so what position do you play? Can't be a lineman, because they're already up there. Your legs are too small for you to be a kicker. You don't look super agile, so you're probably not a wide receiver. So that leaves quarterback, running back, and tight end. But you don't look like you're heavy, so not tight end. So, quarterback or running back?"

"Um,uh. Quarterback, I play quarterback. I played last year, er, I was on the team, but Coach Taylor said that everyone who wasn't first string last year needs to try out again 'cause he ain't seen us play before." She was very smart, as he had thought, and she seemed to know a lot about Dillon's favorite sport.

"Yep," she said. "We had a similar policy at my last school, but it takes, like, forever to get anything done."

"What are you doing here?" He asked suddenly, though he was immediately embarrassed about how rude he sounded. She smiled at him again as she leaned forwards to grab the bottoms of her cleats, touching her head to her legs as she replied.

"I just moved from California to live with my uncle. He's the sheriff of Dillon, I guess. I played football at my last school, so when Coach heard I was moving here he got in contact with Coach Taylor to see if he would let me tryout. I guess he said yes, cause here I am." She switched to stretching her legs individually as she talked and it became apparent to Matt and everyone else that she was quite flexible.

"WIDE RECEIVERS AND RUNNING BACKS, YOU'RE UP!" Coach Taylor yelled from the center of the field. Charlie stood up suddenly, as if she hadn't been folding herself into a pretzel moments before.

"Are you any good?" He asked, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of her playing for the Dillon Panthers.

"I think you're going to have to figure that one out for yourself there Matt." She turned to look at the others, who were suddenly very busy looking at their shoes and water bottles. "By the way," she said. "You guys are not nearly as good at eavesdropping as you think you are." Then she walked out to the center of the field with those who were trying out for running back or wide receiver.

"Alright," Coach Taylor said. "This is where we figure out which one of y'all is gonna be on the team. We've only got one spot open for wide receiver, and two for running back, so give it everything you got. The drill is pretty simple. I blow the whistle, you run forty yards, go 'round the cones, and catch the ball that Mr. Street down there is gonna throw for you, since he's our quarterback. When you catch the ball, run to the end zone, run back, give the ball back to Mr. Street, go back through the cones, and run back to the start point. I'll be timin' you, so go as fast as you can. And don't knock the cones down."

Charlie took in the instructions with ease. She had done similar things at her last school, and she was ready for anything this coach could throw at her. She immediately noticed when the coach's eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

"You Charlotte Peters?" He asked.

"Yes, Coach."

"You as good as Coach Lyons said?"

"Yes, Coach."

"Good," he said. "'Cause you're goin' first."

Charlie nodded firmly. She knew something like this might happen. Coach Taylor needed to prove himself to the community. He was already taking a risk allowing her to try out. He needed to prove he wasn't going easy on her because she was a girl. She needed to prove she could take the heat.

The Texan sun beat down on her as she lined herself up at the starting cone. She could take the heat; Charlie had grown up in Los Angeles. She tightened her ponytail, set her feet into the ground, and waited for Coach Taylor to blow the whistle.

On the bleachers, the first string of the Dillon Panthers sat under the blazing sun. Coach Taylor had them come to watch the tryouts so they could see him in action, and watch the potential players go through drills. Tim Riggins and Smash Williams sat on opposite sides of the team, their mutual dislike keeping them apart from each other. Neither of them was paying any attention to what was happening on the field until someone said, "Hey, is that a girl?"

Both Smash and Tim looked up from what they were doing at the same time. Looking at the center of the field, they saw the person in question. It was in fact, a girl, which was odd to see. Only the cheerleaders and rally girls ever went onto the field, and that was only to do their routines or hand out sweets. But she didn't look like she was cheering; she looked like she was trying out. Tim scoffed and Smash laughed, girls didn't play football.

"Yeah man," someone else said. "That's Charlotte Peters. She used to play for L.A. Central. They won states last year. She a runnin' back I think."

"Look! Coach is makin' her go first. Tough luck."

They all watched intently as she lined herself up. She looked confident, and even from where they were the team could see she was built like a runner.

The whistle blew, and she shot off down the field faster than any of them had ever seen.

The whistle blew, and Charlie sprang from her position into a full blown sprint. She was fast, very fast, and her legs were strong. They pumped like pistons as she ran down the field, totally in the zone. She loved running, loved the rush, loved the feel of her feet hitting the ground. She loved football, and she was going to get the spot she deserved on the team.

When she got to the cones she didn't slow down at all, instead weaving through them with expertise that came from years of practice. They were orange, and Charlie liked to think of them as land mines, touching them meant death, and it meant letting herself down. She hated being let down.

After she got past the cones, she stopped as suddenly as she started; pivoting to catch the ball the quarterback threw for her. She made eye contact as he threw the ball, and caught it perfectly in her arms. The moment she had it she was off again, ball tucked against her chest. She ran as fast as she could, quickly making it into the end zone.

As she entered the end zone, she turned so quickly that her back foot slid through the turf and she put her hand down to steady herself, the ball still safely wedged between her left arm and her chest. To the untrained eye, it may have looked as if she had slid, but to those on the team, and more importantly to Coach Taylor, it showed that she was minimizing her time by using her momentum to turn instead of slowing down. It was a smart move, and something that she was clearly used to doing.

She sprang from that position, heading down the field towards the cones. As she passed the quarterback, she made eye contact for just long enough to toss the football back to him. He caught it and grinned, though Charlie didn't see it because she was already going through the cones.

She sped through the final forty yards, passing the starting cone. Coach hit the button on his stop watch, checking and then rechecking the time before he looked to Charlie. She was panting, but not as heavily as he might have imagined. Her hands were resting on her hips as she looked back at him and gave him the biggest shit eating grin he had ever seen.

The two weeks after tryouts were a whirlwind for Charlie. She had made the team, her brothers and uncle were thrilled. Then she had somehow ended up at Tuesday night dinner with Jason Street, his family, and Tim Riggens. Charlie and Jason had become fast friends in the short span of time, which she attributed to the amount of time they spent working together at practice, and to the fact that Jason Street was possibly the most likable person she had ever met.

She had been amused to find out that most of the team thought she was going to be a running back. Charlie had never even thought of playing that position, she couldn't see herself playing anything except wide receiver. Smash Williams had immediately become friendlier towards her after she and Coach Taylor had cleared up the mishap, now that his position as lead running back wasn't threatened.

Charlie had learned a lot about the Dillon Panther's star quarterback. Jason Street was kind, and intelligent, and also highly conniving. Knowing that Charlie needed more friends, he had folded her into his own group of friends as quickly as he could. Tuesday dinner with his family and Tim, meeting Layla, and now his newest scheme were all well thought out, though Charlie had noticed what he was doing anyway.

The Saturday of the second week, at six in the morning, a month before school and game season started, Jason Street and Charlie Peters stood on the front doorstep of the Riggens household dressed in workout clothes and holding coffee, wondering when someone would open the door. They had been there the weekend before, but apparently the full back hadn't caught onto the idea of making Saturday morning workouts a weekly event, or he didn't care.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Charlie, the door swung open to reveal the older Riggens. He was in his boxers and a t-shirt, still bleary eyed in the early morning. He grunted something that sounded vaguely like "come in." Then he turned and walked back to his room grumbling about how early it was, leaving the door wide open. Charlie entered the house after Jason, quickly glancing over the couch to see if Tim was passed out on it.

"Go get him up, I'll make the bagels," Jason said to Charlie. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You just want me to go because you're afraid there's going to be a girl in there like last time," She accused. He gave her a broad smile; eyes alight with a little disgust and a lot of mischief.

"Sure am. Now go an' get him, so we can eat."

Now it was Charlie's turn to grumble as she made her way to Tim's room. She pushed the door open cautiously, looking for evidence that there were two people in the bed instead of one. As it turned out, no one was in the bed. Tim was passed out on the floor next to a bunch of beer bottles, not two inches from his bed. She watched where she stepped as she tiptoed through his room, making sure she didn't step on anything sharp or dangerous.

"Riggens, it's six dude. Time to get up. Jason brought bagels and coffee, so let's go." He didn't move at all.

"Come on man, get up. This is kinda sad." She nudged him with her running shoe and got no reaction. Doing her imitation of Coach Taylor she barked, "THIRTY THREE, GET MOVIN'!" in her best Texas accent.

Again she saw no signs of life. Sighing heavily, Charlie put her drawstring backpack on the floor and leaned over him, wrestling a bottle out of his tight grasp. She sniffed the bottle, grimaced, and set it down a ways away from her and Tim. Grabbing his far shoulder, she rolled him over onto his back, but still gained no response.

"You've got to be shitting me," She grumbled, putting her fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. Just as she found one, Tim's eyes shot open.

"What're doin'?" He slurred as he tried to focus on whoever was touching his neck.

"Checking for a pulse. Sit up." Charlie reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of water and some painkillers. She waited until he had righted himself enough to lean his back and head against the side of his bed before handing him the water. He chugged about half of it down before she put the pre opened painkillers into his hand.

"Take these and finish the water. They should kick in by the time we finish breakfast."

She frowned at him as he groaned and downed the pills and the rest of the water. She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing the half empty beer bottle, offering her other hand out to the human hangover. It took him a second to notice, but he took her hand, and together they were able to pull him into a standing position.

They made their way to the kitchen slowly, Charlie standing behind Tim to ensure he didn't go back to bed or fall over. As they sat at the table that Jason had cleared off Charlie noticed that he still had a mischievous look in his eyes. He set the plates down as loudly as possible, making Tim wince and grab his head.

"What took y'all so long?" He asked a little too loudly as he set their coffees down next to the plate. Charlie stood up and emptied the confiscated beer bottle into the sink as she answered.

"Sleeping Beauty here was doing a beautiful impression of a bear skin rug." She sat at the table and took a sip of her coffee, eying her bagel suspiciously. She took the top of the bagel off to inspect the cream cheese, checking to make sure Street hadn't done something funny to her bagel as a joke.

"Eat your bagel. It'll help with the headache," she told Tim as she took a tentative bite of her own, chewing slowly. Jason laughed at the pained expression on his face as he grabbed his food, which made Tim groan at the volume.

After they had finished, Tim had changed into his workout clothes and drank another bottle of water that Charlie had brought for him. While he was changing Jason and Charlie cleaned up from breakfast and started stretching for their run to the local park. Charlie had piled her brown hair onto her head and wrapped it with three hair ties in an attempt to keep it out of her face as she ran.

The fullback came out of his room dressed in his workout clothes, tying a bandana to his head to keep the hair out of his eyes. Charlie was sitting on the floor stretching , already wearing her backpack containing the water bottles he had drank, which she had refilled, as well as two bottles for her and Street.

"What did you give me?" He asked her. "My hangover's gone." He was honestly astonished that it had gone away so quickly, especially given the amount of beer he had the night before.

"I gave you water so you could rehydrate. It's important to drink water if you're hung-over," She said, still stretching.

"I know you gave me water, what kinda painkiller did you give me? It worked great." Tim and Jason had both noticed that she was purposely not making eye contact with either of them. She mumbled something that was unintelligible to Tim, but Jason, who was closer, had heard her quite well. He let out a loud, bouncing laugh at his newfound knowledge.

"Shut up, Street." She hissed, standing up so she could hit him in the arm. He was still laughing as Riggens stepped closer to her, sizing her up. She took a step back, so the quarterback was partially in between her and the bigger guy.

"Peters, what did you give me?" He stared at her, jaw set. Whatever was making his best friend laugh so hard was clearly something he needed to know about.

"I, like, gave you Midol. But it's totally not a big deal, it's one of the strongest nonprescription painkillers, and it totally works for hangovers." She said as quickly as possible hoping he wouldn't be able to pick up on some of the key words. Apparently she hadn't said it quickly enough, because the next thing she knew Tim was lunging at her. He was a lot bigger than her, but she was faster, and she slipped out from his grasp making her way out the front door as quickly as possible.

"Last one there tells Smash they think his cologne smells good!" She shouted as she ran down the street. Street and Riggens were out the door mere seconds after her, and when she looked over her shoulder she saw that Street was still laughing, and the fullback looked like he was going to throw her off a bridge. She needed to pick up the pace, they were gaining on her.

"Shit," She said as she realized that Riggens was overtaking Jason, driven by anger and the caffeine in the Midol.

"Oh shit!"

Monday

Monday morning practice came early, as it always did. Four days before the Dillon Panthers played the Westerby Mustangs. Tim Riggens was passed out on his couch, surrounded by empty bottles. Layla Garrity was talking to her family. Matt Saracen was kissing his grandma goodbye. And Charlie Peters was running to the school, like she did every morning.

Earlier that morning she had made her brothers' lunches, left a shopping list for her uncle, and ran out the door wearing her backpack. It had maybe fifteen pounds of books and schoolwork in it, which was how Charlie liked it. If she got used to carrying weight around while she ran she would run faster without it during the game. It was only three miles to school, and then three miles back following afternoon practice.

By the time she had reached the school the news crew was already there. She let out an annoyed sigh. The news crew had followed them around during the entire preseason, and it bugged her to no end. Why couldn't she just practice in peace?

"So, I've heard that you moved here because your mother is in jail. Can you tell me anything about that?" The interview had very suddenly become Charlie's own personal hell. She gritted her teeth and dug her hands into the chair.

"I'm sorry," she said in a sickly sweet voice. "I was under the impression that we were here to discuss football, not gossip like little old ladies. If you want to ask me questions, you can ask me about the game or the team, nothing else."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cross any boundaries," the reported replied. "What's it like being the first female player on the Dillon Panthers? How does everyone treat you?" Charlie glared at the reporter, plastering on the biggest, fakest smile she could muster.

"It's great really. I get treated the same as everyone else. The fullbacks try to tackle me as much as anyone else. Coach Taylor is, like, the best. And we've all been working our butts off to get ready for the season, so this game should be a good one." The sarcasm was practically dripping off her words.

"Now, some people might say that football is a man's sport, and that you don't belong on the field. What do you have to say to that?" Now the reporter was getting to the questions she was interested in answering. She sat straighter, pulled her shoulders back, and looked directly into the camera.

"Football is an American sport. Last time I check, America was not a country entirely populated by men. I'm the best wide receiver this team has ever had, and it was the same at my last school. And just so we're clear, I'm not lying, you can check the stats. If you want to judge me, or tell me that I don't belong on this field with the rest of the team, don't do it because I'm a girl. Do it because I'm a bad player, or because I messed up. But I think you're going to have a hard time doing that, I'm pretty freaking good."

Later, as she walked away from the interview seat Coach Taylor approached her, patting her on the shoulder.

"You did good kid," he said. He was very clearly proud. She looked up at him, giving him a genuine smile.

"Yep. I didn't swear at all. I told you I could do it. Pay up Coach." Her smile shifted to a gloating smirk as she held out her hand. He put the five he owed her into her waiting palm, playfully frowning as he did so.

"Let's keep that cursin' to a minimum today, Chuck," he said as he walked off. Charlie sighed in frustration at her new nickname.

During practice that day Coach Taylor introduced a new game, and though he didn't give it an official name, Charlie was pretty sure it was called 'Knock Riggens down'. It was actually pretty simple. Coach called a number, that player ran at the guy in the middle. If the guy in the middle fell, he had to stay in, if the tackler fell, they had to stay in the middle. It just so happened that Riggs had yet to stay standing.

"You're makin' us look weak," Smash said. "One person fumbles the ball, we all fumble the ball. One person shows up half drunk, we all show up half drunk." He was right, and Rigs hated that.

"ELEVEN," Coach Taylor shouted. Tim turned to face her just as Charlie charged at him. She liked Riggens, they were friends, but she was pissed. He was half drunk at practice. It was practically a sacrilege in Charlie's book. She slammed into him at full force, driving her shoulder into his solar plexus, knocking him over. She hit him with such force that she flipped over him as he fell, landing hard on her back. But unlike her workout buddy, she popped back up as quickly as she had gone down.

When she realized that he was still down Charlie became furious. How was he supposed to play fullback if he couldn't even stay standing? How was he supposed to watch anyone's' back? She spat her mouth guard out and tore off her helmet.

"**This is fucking pathetic, Riggens!" **Charlie barked at him. She heard Coach yell something that vaguely sounded like "Watch your language, Peters."

"Get knocked down, GET BACK UP! You weigh seventy pounds more than I do. You should have flattened me. Stop dicking around and get up." Becoming fed up as he struggled to stand Charlie leaned down to grab his hand, and helped him get back onto his feet.

"You're gettin' really intense there, Snake eyes. Might want to act more like a lady," Rigs said to her as she helped him steady himself.

"Stop talking shit, Thirty three, and start playing ball." Her good natured smile had come back to her face, so he wasn't expecting her to punch him hard in the shoulder, even though most of the hit was absorbed by the pads.

"Next time you come to practice drunk I'm going to beat your ass, you got that Rapunzel?" He gave her a friendly glare in response to the nickname, but she barely saw it as she pulled her helmet back on.

"PETERS," Coach Taylor yelled. "HOW MANY TIMES AM I GONNA HAVE TO TELL YOU TO WATCH YOUR MOUTH?"

"SORRY, COACH," Charlie yelled back. They both knew she wasn't.

Tuesday

Somehow or another, the starting line of the football team and their seconds had ended up on the stage of the new Garrity car dealership. It made Charlie ridiculously uncomfortable. Everyone was wearing matching blue polo shirts, standing awkwardly on the stage.

"I hate this. Why are we even up here Jace?" Charlie asked Street as they stood up on the stage. He looked down at her while still facing the crowd.

"It wasn't mandatory Charlie, you didn't have to come." He whispered to her. She groaned quietly and said, "That's not what Layla said." Jason chuckled quietly as Coach Taylor finished up his speech. Charlie and Layla got along well, but Layla seemed determined to force Charlie into situations that made her feel uncomfortable, like painting her nails the school colors, or making her try on dresses and show them to the Street family, or making Charlie stand on a stage in front of a room full of people.

Somehow Smash had ended up with the microphone, so Charlie had tried to escape the stage. But Jason Street, quarterback extraordinaire had caught her, and had basically blackmailed her into staying on stage, saying "My mother has pictures of you in Layla's prom dress." To which she replied, "You are the devil, Jace. The actual, legitimate devil."

"Does he think this is rap?" she asked Jason. "Is this what he thinks rap is? If this is what he thinks rap is he needs to get the hell out of Texas." Jason had now taken up laughing at her despair, holding onto the back of her hideous shirt to keep her from disappearing off the stage.

Charlie was rethinking her definition of awkward as she stood with Jason and the Mayor of Dillon, who was currently giving instructions on how to play football.

" If he lets you call anything, throw the ball , son." The mayor said to Jason. Charlie shifted from foot to foot, trying to avoid being noticed by the mayor, even though she was standing right next to her.

"Yes Ma'am." He replied, his eyes shifting to Charlie as she tried to sink into the background.

" Air it out. Throw it right to Miss Charlotte here. You two have the skills to take us to states. Do whatever it takes."

"Yes ma'am," Jason was beginning to sound like a broken record.

" You're a good boy, got great manners," the mayor threw more compliments at the star quarterback.

"Yes ma'am."

"Knock it off," she said harshly, forcing Charlie to hold in a giggle by pretending to cough. "You can't go into the game Friday night like that. You need to be more like Charlotte here. Be rough. Be mean. Chew 'em up, spit 'em out."

"Yes Ma'am."

'Poor baby looks like a deer in headlights' Charlotte thought as she watched him struggle with his responses.

" And Charlotte, honey, you should know that you're not only representing the women of Dillon, but the women of Texas. So, for the love of all that is holy, play mean. Give no quarter. Take no prisoners." Now Charlie was in the hot seat.

"Yes Mrs. Mayor, absolutely. I'm pretty good at beating ass and taking names," she said, wincing as Jason stepped on her foot for swearing near the mayor. They mayor laughed , saying, " Like I said Mr. Street, be tough like Charlotte here."

"Can I just have some water please?" Charlie asked the waiter, who nodded handing her the cup of water, smiling as he did so.

"Anything you want, Baby." His smile was dazzling. Charlie was extremely uncomfortable, so she took a sip of her water, mumbled a "Thank you," and walked off. As she milled around, trying to stay out of peoples' way she noticed that the waiter was circling around to talk to her again. She continued to move around the crowd, looking for someone who she felt comfortable with. Jason was too far away, talking to Lyla, who looked stunning. Tyra was talking to Smash and a talent scout. Tim was the only one who looked free, though he was talking to a middle aged woman. As she approached them, still keeping an eye on the flirty waiter she heard the woman say, "Have you ever blitzed an older woman? Because you could you know."

'Oh. GROSS. So fucking gross,' Charlie thought to herself as she got closer. 'Yuck, Yuck, Yuck.' It was officially time to rescue Riggens.

She walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder to get his attention. The woman gave her a look that could peel paint off a wall.

"Sorry, Miss. I need to steal Rigs here away from you. One of the guys is having a crisis," she said, practically dragging him out of his seat. He looked confused as Charlie pulled him along behind her.

"The crisis is you were getting hit on by someone's mom. So gross man, so gross. Plus, there's this waiter following me around. I don't think waiters get commission for giving me water. He's kind of creepy. And he keeps calling me Baby. And I'm pretty fucking sure he's like thirty or something. Why is everyone so creepy?"

Tim looked at her like she was being ridiculous, awkwardly patting her on the back. He usually understood what Charlie was talking about when she started babbling, but the combination of her talking fast and him being slightly drunk left him a little confused about what was going on. She was still mumbling about how much she hated public events when he spotted Tyra and Smash talking to each other. Charlie was still holding onto his arm as he made a b-line for the table they were standing at.

"Funny," Tim said as Tyra laughed at something Smash had said. "It's time to go home." Charlie was feeling uncomfortable again.

"No, I'm having a conversation," she told him before turning to look at Charlie.

"Hey, Charlie. How's everything going?" She asked the other girl.

"Well, I think this shirt is the ugliest thing I've ever worn, and there's this one creepy waiter who keeps hitting on me, but other than that everything is going good."

" It's cool man," Smash said to the fullback. He smiled at Charlie, who smiled back before shaking her head, trying to silently tell him not to start anything. She could feel Tim's arm tensing up as he looked at Smash and Tyra. She gave it a warning squeeze, trying to remind him to behave. Tyra gave her a look that said there was probably going to be trouble.

"Hey, do yourself a favor, Williams. Shut your face while I talk to my girl." He was purposefully trying to start trouble. Charlie groaned and looked up, blowing her bangs up and out of her eyes. This was not going to end well.

"Say that again."

"Guys, stop," Tyra pleaded.

"Smash, knock it off," Charlie said harshly. "Riggens, you need to go." She tried pushing him away, but he stood still, glaring at the running back.

"You know," he slurred. "I've been meaning to ask you somethin'. You're all about God, but at the same time you got the bling right there." He had reached over to touch Smash's cross, but his hand was smacked away.

"Guys, seriously," Tyra warned. She and Charlie both knew they had a narrow window of opportunity to get them separate before a fight broke out.

"Riggens, Tyra. It's time for you to go. I'll walk you out," She said. Charlie and Tyra had gotten a firm hold on the long haired teen and pushed him towards the exit, successfully avoiding an embarrassing brawl.

Wednesday

"Who here knows how to run a grapevine?" Charlie asked the group of kids sitting in front of her. Two hands shot up immediately.

"I know you know how to do them, you knuckleheads. I taught you how to do them. We live together." Of course her brothers had raised their hands, she had been teaching them to play football since they had started walking.

"I was asking everyone else," she continued. Then they all raised their hands.

"Coolio Julio. So you guys can ask some questions, and then we'll do some grapevines, and then we'll play some ball. Sound good?" She was answered with a chorus of 'Yes'. The kids had been split into three groups, some were talking to the linebackers, learning about the different positions, some were talking with Jason and Smash about what it was like to be a quarter back and a running back.

"How fast are you?" A kid asked.

"I'm the fastest wide receiver the Dillon Panthers have ever had." She could feel the coach watching her, making sure she didn't swear near the kids.

"If I run faster than you, can I play wide receiver for varsity?" She smiled. These kids were cute, and they would have been even cuter if her brothers weren't busy punching each other in the arm.

"You sure can," Charlie said with a devious smile. "But you'll have to catch me first."

She took off down the field, running the grape vine, followed by yells of "That's cheating!" and "Slow down." She laughed the entire way down the field, smiling at Jason as she passed him.

They sat on the bleachers with the little football players in front of them. She sat in the middle, next to Street, and they playfully bumped each other's shoulders whenever the cameras weren't flashing.

The kids' parents were taking pictures of them, but Charlie's uncle had to work, so Coach Taylor was taking pictures of her brothers for her. She liked him because of stuff like that, because he not only was he a good coach, he was a good man, who understood that sometimes his players had abnormal living situations.

Later they sat in the training room, listening to Jason talk and answer questions about playing football and his college plans. Charlie and Tim were sitting next to each other. She was re-braiding her hair and watching her brothers closely, waiting for them to start fighting or do something stupid.

"Let us pray," Jason said.

Before he could start her brother Liam interrupted him, asking, "Mr. Street, do you think God loves football as much as Charlie does?" Beside her Tim laughed, so she stepped on his foot.

"I know everyone loves football, but even God would be mighty hard pressed to love it as much as your sister does." The crowd laughed at Jason's joke, and Riggens patted her on the back as she hid her face in her hands.

Thursday

They sat in the backyard the night before the game, drinking and telling stories about practice. Jason was sitting on a long yard chair, Layla curled up in his lap, sharing his limeade. Tim sat across from them next to the cooler, sipping on a beer. He wouldn't have more than three that night, partially because he didn't want to be hung over for game day, and partially because if he was Charlie would maul him to death with her cleats. Charlie sat on a lawn chair in between them, wrapped the sweater Jason had given her. Even though there was a fire burning behind them she was still chilly, which she attributed to pregame jitters as she drank her bottle of water.

"Here's how I figure it's gonna work, man," Tim said. "Correct me if I miss something here, but… I'm cool with just hanging out right here, man. You go do your ,what, maybe ten years in the NFL. Say at five mil. a year. You give me one percent of every paycheck. Charlie will invest it in sports teams for me." Tyra interrupted him to kiss him before walking away. Layla rolled her eyes at the same time Jason did. Charlie sighed contently and pulled her legs farther into Jason's sweater."

After the brief interruption, Tim continued, " When it's all said and done, we all are gonna own ourselves a big old hunting ranch." Charlie smiled to herself. She wasn't sure if Riggens had even thought about it, be he had included her in his dreams for the future. She may not have been as close to him as she was to Jason, but at least she knew Tim wanted them both around ten years in the future.

"I'll keep it stocked with some ladies, of course." And he had ruined the moment.

"What?" Jason and Layla asked at the same time.

"Hello!" Layla said, reminding Tim that she still intended to be around in the future.

"Fucking gross," Charlie groaned, leaning her head back into her chair.

"There's only one little problem, Rigs. It's that I don't want you and Charlie livin' on my land."

Tim said, "Yeah, you do," at the same time Charlie said," Yes, you do." She looked at Jason with indignation while Tim grabbed another beer from the cooler. "I'm the caretaker , Streeter, whether you like it or not. And Charlie's gonna be the ultimate nanny. She'll turn all of your little brats into pro football players." They all laughed and smiled, it was a lovely dream, a great life to look forward to.

Tim held up his new beer for a toast, "Here's to God…And football…And ten years from now Street, good friends living large in Texas. Texas forever, Street."

"Texas forever," Jason and Charlie chorused, followed by a few others.

Tim continued his speech, raising his voice so everyone could hear him, " Yo, everybody, listen up! Let's do it. Let's touch God this time boys. Let's touch God."

Later that night, Charlie stood in between Jason and Tim, watching the fire burn, drinking her water.

"You know," She said. "Last year my team went to states, won it too. But I missed it, blew out my shoulder getting tackled. This guy, biggest fucking Samoan kid I've ever seen , landed right on top of me. A week before we went to states, and I had a dislocated shoulder, stretched ligaments, and a cracked rotator cuff. It hurt so much. But what really hurt was that I couldn't play." She took another sip of her water. "This is my last season, no matter how good I am, no college is going to let me join their team. So let's make this count."

"Don't worry Charlie, you're never gonna forget this year," Jason said, slinging his arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah, Snake eyes. With a quarterback like Street and a wide receiver like you, I don't think we can lose," Rigs said, resting his arm next to Jason's.

Game Day

( Friday)

People handle game day jitters in different ways. Jason Street, quarterback extraordinaire, liked to take a shower before a game. Tim Riggens bounced his legs and tapped his fingers on anything he could get his hands on. Charlie Peters had moved a punching bag into the girls' locker room, and stood in front of it, bouncing on her feet and throwing well aimed punches. It helped her get motivated, and it kept her from shaking. Her hair had been braided back by Lyla, who had a hard time of it because Charlie had a hard time sitting still. Now all Charlie was waiting for was the go ahead to go to the team room, and she physically couldn't sit still. She had stretched, and then stretched again. She was ready.

"Gentlemen…Charlie," Coach Taylor began. "There's been a lot of talk about expectation lately. Expectation of what we should be able to do to win. People are expecting… people are expecting quite a bit. I see us winning out there tonight. I have no trouble seeing that. That is not what I'm expecting. I expect you all to go out there and not take this team lightly because I promise you they're going to come at you with everything they've got. I expect you all to execute."

"Yes, Sir," the team answered back, mulling over what he had said.

" I expect you all to play football.

"Yes, Sir," the team answered.

"Clear eyes, Full hearts, Can't lose."

"CAN'T LOSE!" They roared back. It was game time. The yelling continued as they left the team room, each slapping the Panthers' good luck letter before they left.

Charlie was ready and waiting for an opening. She had been holding back like Coach had told her to, waiting for the opportunity to strike. So far she had stayed out of most of the scuffles. Coach had wanted her to stay free, and to protect herself from the opposing team, most of whom weighed at least forty pounds more than she did.

They were at the 35 yard line when Jason gave them the play she had been waiting for. It was simple really. Jason would drop back to throw the ball, and Charlie would run wide around the other teams' defensive line and catch the football, running for the end zone.

As they stood in huddle Jason looked at Charlie and asked "You good for this, Charlie?" She nodded sharply and replied, "You bet your ass I am." She popped her mouth guard back in as they ran to their assigned spots.

All she had to do was run fifteen yards, which was the equivalent of 45 feet. It would be easy as long as nothing went wrong. She set her feet into the ground, ready to run the moment Street got his hands on the ball.

The second Jason had the ball Charlie shot off like a rocket, running down the field to catch his ball. One of the best parts of being significantly shorter than the other team was that they had a hard time seeing her through their helmets. She got to the center of the field just in time to catch the ball, barely even slowing down to do so. When she had the ball in her hands she ran at full speed into the end zone, effectively scoring the first touchdown of the season.

The crowd went wild, the team was ecstatic. As Charlie jogged back towards the lineup she got many friendly helmet swats, and then she got picked up and twirled around by Jason.

"Jace! Put me down you oaf. Put me down." She hollered at him as he laughed. Off on the sidelines she could see Coach Taylor laughing too.

By the time they had gotten into the second quarter it became obvious that the Westerby team was not going down without a fight. Their counters were incredible and hard to break.

Charlie was tackled twice in the second quarter, once as she had entered the end zone and scored another touchdown, and once while she was catching the ball. The fullback from the other team had practically jumped on her, smashing her bad shoulder into the ground.

They sat in the team room during halftime. Most of the team were getting yelled at by the assistant coach and a scant few were sitting on a side bench getting patched up. A trainer was patching up Riggens' throat, which was bearing some nasty scratches. Another was icing a lineman's knee. The third was checking up on Charlie's shoulder.

"Can you move all of your fingers?" he asked. She wiggled the fingers on her right hand as she rubbed the icepack around her right shoulder. She had her hand and the icepack under her jersey collar and shoulder pads, moving it slowly back and forth."

"Can you raise your arm above your head."

"Yes," she said as she showed him. "Look, unless they like, make me do a handstand , it should be fine." The trainer just sighed.

The second half was even worse than the second quarter. The Dillon Panthers were getting creamed. Every time Charlie caught the ball there was someone on her, knocking her down or landing on her. Smash and Jason weren't doing any better. The game was starting to look bad.

The Westerby boys were leading with six minutes left , and it was driving Charlie up the wall. She was trying everything she could, the whole team was trying anything they could to deter them, but nothing seemed to be working. They needed to gain two possessions and score them both, and that was going to be a hard thing to do at the moment.

Jason dropped back to throw the ball, hoping to get it to Smash, but it was suddenly intercepted. The interceptor ran down the field, past the Panthers' linemen. Charlie watched closely, realizing that Jason was the only one who was going to be able to stop him. But he would never make it because another Westerby player had noticed, and was chasing Street down.

In a split second Charlie had made a decision. She may have been the smallest person on the team, but she was also the fastest. There was no way for her to stop the ball, but she was fast enough to stop the guy going after Jason. She shot down the field, leaping over fallen bodies. She covered yards quicker than she ever had. Number 36 had unfortunately become her target, and Charlie had become the bullet that was going to take him down.

A split second before he got to Jason, Charlie smashed into Number 36, hitting him low at the waist. The impact threw him to the ground and Charlie right over the top of him, winding her as her back and right shoulder crashed against the ground.

Just a few quarters of a second after Charlie had hit 36, Jason leapt into his own target, clipping him hard enough to knock him down.

As soon as she could, Charlie sat up to see what was happening with the ball. But instead of seeing the ball all she saw was Jason Street lying on the ground, not moving. She was on her feet in an instant, running over to him before she slid down onto her knees at his side.

"Street, you good?" She asked. Charlie was worried, he never stayed down this long.

"Street! Talk to me!" He wasn't answering her. She vaguely heard someone, Coach maybe, yelling for the trainers to go help him. She pulled her helmet off, tossing it to the side so he could hear her better.

"Jace! Jason! Can you hear me? Say something if you can hear me!" She was desperate now. He hadn't moved or answered at all. One of the trainers had reached them, and was leaning over to touch him.

"DON'T!"Charlie yelled. He looked taken aback at her ferocity. "If this is a spinal injury, we can't move him. Don't touch him."

"GET A MEDIC," The trainers shouted.

"Jason, stay still. Do not try to move, okay? Stay right where you are," She said to him.

"Let them do their thing, Charlie baby," Smash said. She hadn't even realized he was there. He must have chased the fumbled ball after Jason had tackled the Westerby player. He patted her right shoulder and she visibly winced. He mumbled a sorry as he helped her move away from the doctor and trainers that were surrounding Jason.

When the paramedics had gotten Jason onto the stretcher and into the ambulance the crowd started clapping. By then Smash and Charlie had gotten back to the sidelines. Smash was holding her helmet and Charlie was holding her right shoulder. It hurt. But she would live. She was too worried to really think about anything beside her friend anyways.

Matt Saracen, the boy Charlie had met at tryouts, was going to be playing quarterback for the final few minutes. As the ref called the captains forward, Charlie shoved her helmet back onto her head. Her arm was aching, and it probably couldn't withstand another hard fall, but there was no way she was going to tell anyone with any authority that.

"We're going pro-right 90," Matt said without any real conviction. Smash corrected him, they were going pro-left 90.

They lined up, ready to play, and watched as disaster struck. He had played the wrong play. Charlie stayed were she was. She was in pain, she was distressed , and now she was worried they were going to lose, she honestly didn't think she could handle that.

The second play he accidentally hit a Panther in the back of the head with the ball. That was when Charlie intervened. She stepped in between him and the guys who were giving him a hard time. Just as she did, Coach Taylor called a time out, motioning for Charlie and Matt to join him.

"Listen, Matt," he said. "Breathe. Read the coverage as best you can. That means watch their defense, look for an opening, then throw the ball. Charlie will be there." Matt nodded, but he still looked insanely nervous.

"You saw her tryout. You've seen her play. All you've got to do is throw the ball, son, Charlie will do the rest." Charlie gave Matt a reassuring smile, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

"We got this, Mattie boy. We got this. Trust what you know," She said to him. He nodded more confidently than he had before and squeezed her hand back.

They stood in the huddle. Matt seemed to have a better understanding of what he was doing, saying, "We're going pro-right, 25 shovel. Smash, this is you. Alright…on one.

"Break!"

Their last play had moved them down the field enough to make a pass at the end zone. And they were ready for it. The next play had Smash running the ball right into the end zone. They had one of the touch downs they needed to win. Now it was truly a race against the clock, and with less than a minute to go, Charlie was the only one who would be able to make it to the end zone in time. Riggens had gotten the kick off ball, so the Panthers were officially in possession, ready for the final touchdown.

Now the big problem was getting closer to the end so Charlie could make it in time. Crash ran out of bounds with the ball to get them closer, it was just close enough.

They stood in their spots, ready and anxious to do it right. Charlie and Smash made eye contact, nodding at each other. They were ready. Then she looked at Riggens, who looked back at her. They were the closest to their missing quarterback. He nodded and mouthed the word 'breathe' to her before shoving his mouth guard back in. She gave him thumbs up, ready for anything.

It started. Charlie ran as fast as she could towards the end zone, practically running sideways so she could see where the ball would end up. Smash and the linebackers were doing their best to keep the opposite team off her back, but she still had one after her.

Charlie saw Matt throw the ball. The arc was gorgeous, and high, and it was going to pass right over her if she didn't speed up. She was running so hard she thought she was going to put holes in the turf. She turned, catching the ball while still running. She could hear people, heavy people, running behind her.

20 Yards

10 Yards

Touchdown!

She had just barely made it into the end zone, scoring the winning touchdown, when one of Westerby's fullbacks slammed into her, plowing her right side into the ground. She felt an awful, shooting pain work its way up and down her arm, but it was too late, they had won. She had never been happier.

Then there was yelling and screaming, and someone was pulling her up off the ground and hugging her, and she was being half carried, half walked to where the rest of the team was gathered. She pulled her helmet off, shaking her hair as she held it in the air with the rest of the team. They had won. They had won!

They kneeled in the center of the field, Dillon and Westerby players alike, and prayed for Jason Street. Charlie couldn't lift her right arm, so she reached out with her left hand and grabbed the hand that was closest to hers. It was Tim's hand, he looked at her and nodded. He didn't mind her reaching out.

Charlie had struggled to get into normal clothes. She was right handed, and had already accepted that she wasn't actually going to pull a shirt over her head. After taking a shower and pulling on some sweatpants, she put on her bra, thankful that it clasped in the front. The hardest part was putting on her jacket and zipping it up. Even though she had forgone her shirt it still hurt to put her arm into the sleeve.

After she left the locker room she saw Tim Riggens about to get into his truck.

"Tim!" She said, quickly following him to the truck. "I need you to take me to the hospital."

He wordlessly opened the passenger side door, watching as she climbed in and shut the door with her left arm. She hadn't used her right arm at all, and she hadn't even attempted to put the seatbelt on.

"What's wrong with your arm, Charlie?" He asked. He had never used her name before, it had always been one nickname or another.

"It's dislocated," she responded, leaning her head against the cool dashboard. He nodded and sped off to the E.R. entrance of the hospital.

When they got there he threw the truck into park before walking to her side of the car, pulling her door open with vengeance.

"You should have said something sooner," he growled, helping her out of the car. He walked with her carefully to the E.R. entrance. The waiting area was already packed with football players and Jason's friends and family.

Coach Taylor walked in shortly after them and got a good look at Charlie's arm, which she was holding against herself with her left arm.

"What happened, Charlotte?" He asked. There was already a nurse taking her to a doctor in a room off to the side.

"Dislocated, Coach," She gritted out. "Final touchdown."

Tim Riggens paced around the E.R. waiting room, worried about the two people he considered his closest friends. Not that he had ever told Charlie that, because for God's sakes he had only known her for a few months and she would never let him live it down. The only thing that stopped his pacing was when Smash reached out to him and shook his hand. They had a manly hug and then stood next to each other in silence.

Suddenly they heard a quiet 'pop' and a muffled expletive that sounded like the speaker had managed to cry and say, "Mother. Fucking. . ," at the same time. Charlie's arm must have been put back into place.

"Go talk to her , man," Smash said to Riggens. " She's gonna need a friend right about now." Tim nodded and made his way back to the room Charlie and the nurse had disappeared into, watching as the nurse and the doctor left it looking highly scandalized. If he had to guess, he would have thought that Charlie may have used some words they hadn't ever heard before.

He entered her room slowly, not wanting to startle her. Charlie looked up as he came in. In that moment she looked like an entirely different person. The Charlie that Tim was used to liked to smile and swear and make jokes. She liked to give people nicknames. She was impatient, and didn't like crowds of adults. Football was her life, and it made her vibrant.

The Charlie that sat on the bed in front of him looked nothing like the Charlie he was used to. She looked small, her arm wrapped in a sling, hanging against her body. She looked tired, and defeated. Her hair was messy and still damp from her shower, and it hung limply by her head, un-brushed.

"Have we gotten any news yet?" She asked him, breaking the silence. He nodded, sitting down next to her good side on the hospital bed.

"He's out of surgery. Coach is with him now. Don't know much beyond that," his voice sounded rough, gravelly, as if there was something stuck in it. She leaned against his shoulder, letting out a sad, broken sigh.

"How's your arm?"

"It'll be fine by next Friday," she choked out. He could tell she was trying hard not to cry, and if he was honest with himself, he was pretty close to crying too.

"Fuck… What the hell are we going to do, Tim. What are we going to do?"

He honestly had no idea.


	2. Eyes wide open

Sunday was a day of prayer in Texas. The majority of the town of Dillon could be found in church the Sunday following Jason Street's accident. They were praying for him, praying that he would be able to run down the football field again. Even the eternally busy sheriff of Dillon had made it into his church that Sunday, praying for the injured quarter back.

Scott Peters had never been close with his niece or nephews. His sister had lived halfway across the country, which she had done just to ensure he didn't visit. She knew he hated planes, so she moved out of driving distance. As a result, he had never actually gotten to know the kids he was now the sole guardian of. He didn't know anything about their lives before they came to live with him. He had been ecstatic to hear they all loved football because it was something they could bond over, but now he wasn't sure Charlie would want to talk to him about it.

Scott knew that Charlie was friends with the downed quarterback, the boy had been over to his house a few times to pick her up. He had been so happy that she was making friends with a good boy like Jason Street, even if he was friends with the Riggins boy. So when he had woken up that morning he had thought they could do some family bonding by going to church together. But Charlie had already left, and she had taken her brothers with her, leaving only a brief note.

_ Scott,_

_ Taking Liam and Leo to the park. We've never been to church, and I don't feel like starting now._

_ See you later,_

_ Charlie_

_ p.s. we need more cereal._

Liam and Leo ran around the field, throwing a football to each other, calling out made up plays and pretend touchdowns. They laughed at their made up plays which had started to sound more and more ridiculous.

Charlie sat on the swings watching them, right arm still held up by a sling. She would be able to take it off Monday morning as long as she didn't strain it too much.

She had a hard time sleeping the night previously, so she had run on her treadmill until she couldn't take another step. She had tried to sleep without exhausting herself, but the minute she closed her eyes she imagined what she could have done to prevent the tragedy of Friday night.

Charlie knew that she couldn't blame herself for Jason's accident, she had been too far away to help. But that didn't stop her from thinking that everything could have been prevented if she had just been able to run a little faster, if she could have gotten to the guy before Jason did. If she had noticed what was going on sooner.

The last remaining box of cereal sat wedged in between Charlie's knees as she swung. She had eaten another box in the early morning as she ran on the treadmill, trying to overcome the guilt she knew was unreasonable.

Now as she sat on the swing she ate the cereal to curb her overactive guilt. She and the boys had never been to a church. They had never been baptized, and they knew next to nothing about being religious. Perhaps she should have dressed them up and gone to church, but she had no idea of where to go, or what to do when they got there. She had always tried to answer her brothers' inquisitive questions about religion and God and faith the best she could, but she only knew so much. Maybe they should have been there, praying for Jason to get better, but she just couldn't see how that would help.

Charlie sighed heavily, she had finished her box of cereal and didn't have anything else to eat with her. She could already tell that the upcoming week was going to be awful.

The Dillon Panthers stood in the team room, waiting for Coach Taylor to give them the rundown of what was going to happen during the season. It was a hard time to try and process anything, and everyone handled it in different ways. Some were withdrawn, sitting silently, some were jittery, and some were pensive. Charlie was handling the uncertainty by eating a bag of pretzels, holding it in her newly free right hand.

Coach Taylor walked in, he looked stressed, looked tired.

"We're still waitin' to hear," he said. "They got a specialist's comin' in from Huston. In the meantime, it doesn't make any sense and it does nobody any good to make any predictions one way or the other until we get the official word. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," the team mumbled dejectedly.

"As far as football," he continued. "We got a game Friday. We got a lotta work to do."

Later that night Charlie, Tyra , and Tim were at the diner having dinner. There was a weird tension between Tim and Tyra that Charlie had picked up on, so she had left the table to get something else to eat.

"Budge over, Pocahontas," Charlie said to Tim as she sat back down next to him. She held a basket of onion rings and a basket of french-fries, which she immediately doused ketchup on.

A girl sitting at a table near them was crying about Jason's injury, which seemed to visibly annoy Tyra. Tim looked like he was purposefully ignoring both the crying girl and his girlfriend. Noticing this, Charlie became even more uncomfortable, sinking lower into her seat and attacking her fries viciously.

"Hey," Tyra called out to the crying girl. "Hey, yeah, you. You don't even know Jason Street. So stop crying." The girl seemed to think Tyra was kidding.

"Ok, no. Seriously, stop."

Turning back to look at Tim, overlooking Charlie entirely, Tyra asked, "So just how drunk are you right now?" He didn't respond. Charlie shoved the last of her fries in her mouth before going after Tim's onion rings.

They could hear Smash talking about the team from where they were in the restaurant, and what he was saying was not earning him any brownie points at the Collette-Riggins table.

"Look, I'm just saying, somebody's gotta take control. You know, like when one person drops the ball, somebody's gotta jump on the fumble." Tim was officially paying attention to what Smash was saying now, as were Tyra and Charlie, who pulled the onion rings closer to her so she could get them into her mouth more quickly.

"You pointin' at me, that's me. That's me, right? That's me baby, I know what I gotta do." Tim's eyes narrowed , and if looks could have killed, Smash would have been dead a thousand times over.

"Tyra, can I have your fries?" Charlie asked. The onion rings were going fast, and they definitely wouldn't hold her through the impending argument that she was going to have to break up.

"Tim, no. Sit down. Don't do this." Tim was up, and he was angry. He had practically pushed Charlie out of the booth so he could get out. Tyra tried to drag him back down, but he apparently only had one thing on his mind.

Charlie groaned and grabbed Tyra's basket of fries before following Tim to Smash's table. She could probably prevent a physical altercation, or at least she hoped she could.

"Hey, what's up, Rig?" Smash asked. From behind him Charlie shook her head, trying to indicate that things were about to go badly.

"Get up," Tim said. Everyone in the immediate area could hear the anger laced in his voice.

"No, Smash. Stay right where you are," Charlie countered, giving Tim a hard look as she stepped to his side, sticking a french-fry in her mouth.

"You're sitting in Street's booth, get up."

"Tim, knock it off. He's just talking shit. You know he doesn't really mean any of it."

"Look, what you talkin' about, man?" Smash asked.

"Smash. Shut up," Charlie snapped at him. "Riggens, you need to leave. This is so, so not cool."

"Why don't you go home and sleep it off, Rig? Be on time at practice for a change." Now Smash was purposefully instigating an already angry Riggins.

"Fucking hell, Smash. You are making things worse. Shut up." Charlie's voice had picked up a shrill timbre no one had ever heard from her before. "Riggins, you need to leave. Right now," she continued, her voice becoming even shriller. She had placed herself partially between him and Smash's table, looking him straight in the eye.

"You're right," he conceded. She looked at him in suspicion. Riggins rarely actually agreed with something Charlie said. He was about to do something dumb.

" You're right." Charlie let out an audible sigh of relief, sticking some more french-fries into her mouth.

"Hey, smile, Rig. God don't like ugly," Smash called out. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. In a blink of an eye, Tim had hurled a glass as Smash's head, missing by a few inches.

People in the diner let out shouts of shock at the loud noise as Riggins stalked out of the restaurant. Mumbling something that sounded like some hilariously offensive curses, Charlie reached into her back pocket to grab her wallet, pulling out a fifty and placing it on Smash's table.

"That should cover the meal and the damages," she said, glaring right at Smash.

"Those are some pretty fucking big shoes you want to fill there, bubb. Maybe you should plan your coup somewhere a little more private," she said as she walked back to Tyra.

"So, you and Tim seem close…" Tyra started to say as Charlie sat down across from her.

"Well, kind of. I mean, we're both closer with Jason, so the dynamic is a little off. But he can be a nice guy when he's not having temper tantrums. And he's great at football when he tries to be, I just wish he tried more." Charlie hadn't really gotten a chance to talk to Tyra all on her own, and being there alone with her now was making her nervously finish her fries.

"Yeah," Tyra said. "Listen, you're a nice girl, Charlie. But if you're sleepin' with him we're gonna have a problem."

Charlie choked on a french fry, coughing harshly to try and dislodge it from her throat.

"What? What?" she asked. "Oh, God. Is that what people think? That Rigs and I are having sex? Oh, God. No Tyra, no fucking way. Look, he's a nice guy, you know. And he's like, handsome when you bother to notice. But we're just friends. Like, super just friends. And it's totally not cool to be in a relationship with somebody who cheats. I am not about that at all. Nope."

Tyra just stared at her, waiting for her to finish.

"Look, Tyra. My last boyfriend was a dick. Totally not worth the time. And I'm not looking for a relationship. I've got enough stuff on my hands without dealing with all of that crap. It's not something that you're going to have to worry about. We're just friends."

"So long as we're clear 'bout what's going on," Tyra replied.

"Yep, totally clear. Super clear. I'll be right back, I'm going to buy more fries. You want anything?"

Tuesday

Practice was bad Tuesday. Saracen didn't know the plays nearly as well as he needed to, which was causing all kinds of problems. Riggens and Smash were still at odds, yelling at each other whenever they got the chance.

Though nobody would say it out loud, everybody knew why tensions were so high. There was still no news about Jason Street's spine. It was frustrating, and the constant fighting between Smash and Riggens was putting everyone on edge. Charlie ran play after play with Matt Saracen. His throws were good, for the most part, but his knowledge of the plays left a lot to be desired, which led to Charlie being tackled a lot.

By the end of practice she really didn't want to talk to anyone. So after she bought a bag of potato chips she sat alone in the girls' locker room until it was time for her to run home. She figured it was good that she needed to run to get anywhere, because she was fairly certain that if she didn't she would have gained weight in the past four days.

The hospital seemed grim, and ultra sterile to Charlie as she walked down its halls. She had timed her first visit correctly so that no one else would be with Jason when she went to see him for the first time.

She knocked on the edge of the door, saying, "Hey, Jace. It's me. Are you awake?" If he wasn't awake she was going to turn tail and run, because she definitely hadn't brought enough chips to tide her over until he woke up.

"Yeah, Chuck. I'm awake. Come on in," he replied. She smiled softly as she came into the room, sitting in the chair next to him.

"So how are you doing, Jace. Too many visitors, not enough?" She asked. He smiled, but it looked grim and withdrawn.

"It's goin' good, Charlie. I'm so blessed that so many people care so much about me. And I've got a lot of gifts, so that's a blessing," he said. She frowned.

"You know, Jace. You don't need to give me your cookie cutter answer. I don't care what you say. Do you have anyone to talk to? Like really talk to about how much it sucks? Or what you're worried about?"

He let out a sigh mixed with a sob, saying, "No. Riggens would be, but he hasn't come callin' yet." She nodded. Of course he hadn't come in, he was scared out of his mind that Jason would blame him for the accident.

"Well, I'm probably a poor substitute, but let's talk. If you want, I can find a phone book to sit on so I can be as tall as he is."

Jason let out a shaky laugh, smiling at her as she loudly scooted her chair over.

They talked for hours about everything from Jason's injury and his future, to Charlie's mom's incarceration, to whether or not all Texans were born knowing how to shoot a gun and make chilli.

They had both just started to nod off when Coach Taylor knocked on the door, which startled Charlie much more than it did Jason.

"Hey," Coach Taylor said softly.

"Hey, Coach," Jason said. Charlie grunted sleepily in response.

"How you feelin'?" Coach Taylor asked.

"Well, I'm, uh, not really feeling too much right now," the downed quarter back replied. Coach looked worried for a moment before Charlie intervened.

"That would by the Oxy they got you on, Jason," She said, nodding at her coach in the form of a greating. "I'm going to go, but I'll be back soon, ok? If you want to call, do it. I'm up most of the time anyway." She gave him a smile and squeezed his hand before she walked out the door.

Thursday

The team room was filled with normal everyday chatter. Charlie and Tim were chatting about her little brothers, who were busy causing Charlie hell at home.

"They just keep fighting," she said. "One minute I'm cooking dinner and they're laughing, and the next I'm pulling Liam off of Leo. I just don't get it."

"Well, they're probably jus' tryin' to figure out who's stronger," Tim said. Charlie rolled her eyes.

"Thanks Rigs, that was super useful. I value you insight," she replied sarcastically.

He laughed and shook his head, "I'm here to help."

" Alright, keep it down, guys," an assistant coach barked as Coach Taylor walked in.

Everyone's eyes gravitated to him, as they always did. Charlie thought it may have to do with his eyes, which seemed especially somber in that moment. The room became dead silent in an instant. Charlie felt dread fill her stomach until she thought she would choke on it. She stopped moving, stopped breathing. This was the final verdict on Jason Street's spine, once Coach said it; whatever he said would be true. Next to her, Tim Riggins stilled as well, holding himself rigidly, as if he was impersonating a statue.

Coach Taylor cleared his throat, " Jason's paralyzed."

Tim closed his eyes, and Charlie could have sworn her heart jumped right up her throat and out her mouth.

"They say with physical therapy he'll regain use of his arms, his hands, his upper body, but they don't think he's going to regain use of his legs." Charlie felt her heart splatter on the floor.

"Now listen up," Coach Taylor continued. "Any of you need to talk to me, you'll find me in my office," Tim stood up and walked out, but Coach Taylor kept going, making eye contact with Charlie, "or you call me any time, do not hesitate. Now that's all for today, we'll pick it up for tomorrow."

Charlie felt numb; she slowly got up and walked to the girl's changing room. She switched from her cleats to her running shoes grabbed, methodically tying the laces. She slipped he flip phone into the pocket of her running shorts. Her uncle had bought it for her when she moved in because he wanted to be able to reach her when she went running. Sighing heavily, Charlie tightened her ponytail and ran out the door.

The only thing Charlie could hear was the rhythmic sound of her shoes on the pavement, and her measured breathing. She was feeling something she would never be able to describe, almost as if something was pulling her heart and throat and lungs into her stomach. Charlie couldn't handle it. _He's the world's nicest guy,_ she thought, _he didn't deserve this. I should have gotten there first. I should have gotten there sooner._

By the time Charlie became aware of her surroundings it was well past dark. She was way outside of the Dillon town line, in a desolate area that she did not recognize. The little clock on her phone screen told her that it was ten p.m. It suddenly occurred to Charlie that practice had ended four hours ago, and that her uncle probably had a search party out looking for her by now. She dialed her uncle.

"Charlie?" He sounded worried, and angry. "Where are you? Do you know what time it is? Are you hurt?" he was beginning to sound frantic.

"I'm ok Scott. I went for a run, and I kind of lost track of time. I'm sorry." She truly was sorry, he was probably really worried, and she hadn't meant for that to happen. She heard him let out a deep sigh on the other end of the line.

"I heard about Jason, Charlie. I'm real sorry about that. He's a good kid."

"I'm sorry if I worried you," Charlie said, ignoring the previous sentence.

"It's alright, the boys told me that you lose track of time sometimes. Hey, how 'bout you tell me where you are and I'll come an' pick you up. You do have a game tomorrow night."

"Sure," she replied, suddenly feeling relieved. "I'm at the corner of Buckhill and Conlon."

"Good Lord, Charlie! That's almost forty miles out! Don't move, I'll be there soon."

There was something deeply unsettling about the night sky in Texas. It was the biggest sky she had ever seen. She was used to cityscape, light at all hours of the night. Out in the middle of nowhere, the night was darker than she had ever seen, and the sky littered with more stars than she had ever thought possible. It was unbelievably beautiful, and unbelievably unnerving.

Later that night, as Charlie and her uncle were pulling into the driveway of his house he asked, "Charlie, how many hours of sleep are you getting a night?"

"About three," she replied. She knew the effects of not getting enough sleep, but she couldn't manage to get her guilt to shut down long enough for her to sleep.

"That start after Jason's accident?"

"Yep."

Friday

Friday came too early for the town of Dillon. A rally girl gave Matt a cake and a kiss on the cheek. Tim Riggins got a bag and gave a kiss to a rally girl. Charlie got a bag of cookies from the youngest rally girl, and then fell asleep in her chemistry class.

Tyra found her before her last class and handed Charlie a greasy paper bag.

"What's this?" Charlie asked, confused. Only the rally girls gave out sweets on game day. It was a sacrilege if anyone else did.

"Fries," Tyra said. "And onion rings. I figured you might like that better than cookies."

"I do like them better than cookies. Thanks." Charlie couldn't figure out why Tyra was going out of her way to be nice, but she didn't question it. Fries were fries.

"Alright, listen up," Coach Taylor started. "We've suffered a big loss. A big loss. Some of you may be scared, that's natural. And some of you may be really pissed off. One good thing about football is we get to channel that energy. This team has never been about one player. It's about all of us. Every single one of us. And if we're gonna come back from this loss we're gonna need every one of us. Not one man, every single one of us, together." He looked around the room.

"Alright, let's pray."

Tim took Charlie's hand in his. She looked worn down, more tired than her had ever seen her. As coach lead the prayer, Charlie found herself praying. She didn't know if God was real. She didn't know if she wanted him to be. But if he was, she wanted to help Jason, to make his recovery as painless as possible. To heal the hurting team. She felt the hands holding onto her own and hoped that praying made a difference.

"CLEAR EYES, FULL HEARTS…"

"CAN'T LOSE!"

As they ran out onto the field Riggins looked at her and asked, "You think we're gonna win this one Snake Eyes?"

"Sure," Charlie replied. She didn't sound like she meant it.


End file.
